by Lisa Jackson
Trent winced inwardly at the thought of how much his night with Gina had mirrored his biological parents’ meeting. Their mother had been a Montana state commissioner when she’d had the bad luck to run into Larry Kincaid at a Ranchers Association convention. After too many drinks and a roll in the hay, she’d found herself pregnant. Somehow, Barbara managed to convince Harold Remmington the boys were his and they’d married.
“Trent arrived a few days ago,” Garrett explained casually.
Blake’s blue eyes, so much like his own, found Trent’s and, though the slight tensing of his brother’s shoulders or the touch of disapproval in the curve of his lips was hardly noticeable, Trent saw it. He’d also bet that the old man hadn’t missed a single strained nuance between the brothers.
“Trent was never known for his patience.” Blake forced a handshake. It was strong, firm, and brief. “How’ve you been?”
“’Bout the same,” Trent drawled. He’d never been one to confide in Blake. Oh, sure, whenever he’d gotten himself into a mess now and again, he’d had to turn to Blake, but that had been years ago.
“Still wildcatting?”
“Yep. What about you?”
“Well, things have changed a bit since Garrett called.”
Trent heard footsteps behind him and Gina appeared. “Excuse me,” she said, and stuck out her hand. “You must be Blake.”
To Trent’s irritation Blake’s blue eyes sparked and his smile widened. “And you’re…?”
“Gina Henderson,” Trent said quickly before Garrett could make introductions. “Seems Gina was hired to track us down.”
“Congratulations,” Blake said so warmly and smoothly that Trent thought he might be sick. The guy was like warm pudding. Trent had forgotten how women had fallen at his brother’s feet. Even now. Gina wasn’t immune.
“Let me help you get your things,” Garrett offered. “You can either stay up here in the main house or in the bunkhouse. Plenty of room in either.”
“Doesn’t matter where.” Blake took a sweeping view of the place and as his gaze moved from the two-storied house to the stable, bunkhouse and outbuildings, he actually smiled, as if he liked the raw, rugged acres that unfolded in a patchwork of fields. “It’s pretty up here.”
Garrett practically beamed. “I think so.”
“Bet you’re not the only one,” Blake said.
Garrett, rather than nod proudly, sobered. “No,” he said, but didn’t elaborate. “Let me help you with these.”
Along with his suitcase, Blake had brought a briefcase, laptop computer and another smaller bag, all of the same matching leather, every piece engraved with his initials. Probably Blake’s ex-wife Elaine’s doing.
“Stayin’ awhile?” Trent asked.
“I think so, yeah.” Blake squinted against the morning sun as a warbler sang from a nearby tree and carpenters banged their hammers at the site of the new arena. “If that’s all right with you,” he said to the weathered man who claimed to be their grandfather.
“The longer, the better,” Garrett said, grabbing Blake’s laptop. “I think we all need to get to know each other.”
“What about your job?” Trent asked. He’d never seen his brother so laid-back before. For as long as Trent could remember, Blake was always on a schedule, or a regimen. The son with a plan. As far as Trent knew, his twin had never faltered in his path.
“I’m taking a month off. At least. Maybe longer.” They started toward the main house and Blake eyed the horizon. To the northwest the jagged snowcapped peaks of the Crazy Mountains loomed upward to a few hazy clouds. “Even doctors need some time off.” He glanced at his brother. Deep lines creased his forehead. “Thing’s haven’t been great.”
“I heard about the divorce.”
Sadness touched his brother’s eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be, I guess. Elaine and I…” He shook his head and frowned. “Well, it’s all water under the bridge now.”
For the first time in a long while, Trent felt a pang of sorrow for his brother. Even though Trent could have told Blake way back when that social-climbing Elaine Sinclair wasn’t the kind of woman who would want to stay home and raise the couple of kids his pediatrician brother longed for. Elaine had liked money, social events, and knowing who was doing what. She’d had visions for her doctor-husband and herself that didn’t include her getting pregnant and fat or baking cookies or coaching soccer or attending dance recitals for a “snot-nosed brat.” Why Blake hadn’t seen it, Trent had never understood.
Blake had married Elaine and, upon her urging, taken a job in Southern California. Life in the fast lane of Los Angeles hadn’t been Blake’s cup of tea. Trent had known it from the get-go, but Blake hadn’t asked his opinion at the time and Trent probably wouldn’t have given it if he had. He figured each man made his own mistakes and paid for them.
At that thought, he glanced at Gina. God, she got to him. Even now, dressed in a pair of dark shorts and a pale yellow sleeveless blouse, she was sexier than any woman he’d met in a long time. Her hair turned to flame in the morning light and her little nose, spattered with those nearly invisible freckles, wrinkled when she laughed. Her smile was infectious and her legs, slim and tanned, seemed to go on forever.
Yep, he was hooked, he thought as he climbed the steps and held open the door.
And it ticked him off. Just as the spurt of jealousy he’d felt when she smiled at Blake bothered him. He’d never been the jealous type. If anything, he’d been the one who inspired jealousy and now that the tables were turned, he didn’t much like the new feeling.
Once inside, Garrett led Blake up the stairs and offered him a room next to Gina’s. Not that it mattered, Trent told himself as he set the bags he was carrying on the rag rug near a small bureau. Yet Trent’s damned jaw hardened to the point it ached.
“Fixin’ the place up?” Blake observed as two workmen carrying buckets of paint walked toward the back of the house.
“A bit. It was pretty rundown.” Garrett placed Blake’s laptop on his bed and glanced out the window. “Looks like Rand might need me,” he said, spying the foreman striding toward the house. “Why don’t you have Trent and Gina show you around? They’ve been here a few days.” Garrett started to turn toward the door, but Blake grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Thanks, Garrett,” he said, as if he were genuinely glad to meet the older man and embrace this chaos of a family. He threw out his hand again and clasped Garret’s palm hard. “I’m really glad to be here.”
“That’s good to know, son.” Garrett’s smile touched his eyes. He clapped Blake on the shoulder. “Good to have you.”
Trent strode out of the room. He couldn’t stand another second of all this fake family togetherness over Larry Kincaid’s bastard sons.
He’d never really gotten along with Blake and didn’t think he’d fare any better with the rest of his half brothers. But then, he’d always been a loner. Finding out that Larry Kincaid had been his father hadn’t changed things.
He left the room and hurried down the stairs to the den where he could bury himself in the faxes and e-mail that were streaming in. He heard Gina’s laugh follow after him and he scowled to himself at the thought of her being amused by his brother.
Man, you’ve got it bad, he thought, jealousy sneaking through his veins again. And for a woman who lied to you, hopped into bed with you and then snuck away in the middle of the night. She played you for a fool.
Inside the den, he kicked the door shut and snagged up the receiver, intent on calling his secretary, lawyer, accountant, and an outside investor, but his fingers hesitated over the buttons and he listened for the sound of Gina’s voice, only to get angry all over again.
What the hell was happening to him?
When it came to that damned woman, he seemed to be cursed.
Nine
Garrett mopped the sweat from his brow and swatted at a bothersome mosquito that wouldn’t leave him alone. Walking through the orchard, he paused and lo
oked back at the main house where patches of light glowed from the windows as dusk settled over these vast acres he’d worked so hard to keep in the family name. “I think I might have made a mistake,” he admitted to no one in particular, though he realized he was thinking of Laura again. God, he missed her and at times like this, when he needed help wrestling with a decision, the ache within him was raw; as if she’d left this earth just yesterday rather than years earlier.
The old dog that was padding after him whined and Garrett reached down to scratch the shepherd’s ears.
“Yes,” he said, imagining his wife’s encouraging smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it was a good idea to find all our grandsons, but I didn’t expect some of the complications. Jordan Baxter’s making noise that he was cheated out of this place and I have a feeling he’s not going to rest easy about it. There’ll be trouble, sure as shootin’.” Garrett snorted and the muscles in the back of his neck tightened. “I don’t really know why he’s so angry, but it seems as if Jordan thinks he was owed the place, that his uncle promised it to him on his sixteenth birthday.”
Garrett straightened and looked at the first stars beginning to wink overhead. “If that’s true—which I doubt—it was a long time ago and Cameron Baxter must’ve changed his mind or he wouldn’t have sold it to our family. Hell, it’s a mess…” He reached into his shirt pocket for a nonexistent pack of cigarettes, an old habit as he’d quit smoking years before.
“That’s not the worst of it,” he admitted as he started along a trail leading back to the house. “It’s Trent. He’s got something going with Gina. I see the way they look at each other, even caught them getting cozy up on the ridge the other day and then just yesterday I surprised them. They were alone in the barn and well, you know…” A wistful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They remind me of us, Laura. The way I couldn’t keep my hands off you.” He sighed, remembering how hot and randy he’d been at Trent’s age.
He passed by an open window of the ranch house and country music, punctuated by static, reached his ears. “Trouble is,” he went on, “Trent’s never been one to settle down. Too much of his daddy’s blood in his veins, I reckon, so I’m afraid someone’s going to get hurt…and it won’t be our grandson.”
His eyebrows slammed together at the thought. As he was nearly at the house, he quit speaking out loud. He’d have trouble explaining that he was talking to his dead wife, so he clamped his mouth shut, but he was still concerned. Trent and Gina were involved—no question about it—and though the relationship in and of itself wasn’t a problem, Garrett was just sick at the thought that Trent might break Gina’s heart. That spunky redhead deserved a whole lot better.
On top of all that, Trent and his brother Blake didn’t seem to get along. They looked identical, but were, in fact, as different as night to day.
Yes, he thought as he walked up the steps to the back porch and the scent of early blooming roses from the overgrown garden reached his nostrils, things were only going to get worse. At the back door he inched off one boot with the toe of another.
In the next few days the rest of Larry’s boys would arrive.
Contrary to what he’d hoped, the homecoming might not be filled with brotherly love. In fact, considering the escalating tension in the house between Trent, Gina and Blake, and the gossip in town running rampant about Larry’s illegitimate offspring, to say nothing of Jordan Baxter’s determination to make trouble, it was probably a damned good bet that all hell was about to break loose.
The door to her room was ajar and the sounds at night were becoming familiar. The old clock in the foyer ticked off the seconds, a television, the sound low, rumbled down the hallway, and Trent’s voice, muted as he was on the phone in the den, was barely audible. He’d insisted on installation of extra telephone lines. Between the running of the ranch, Trent’s business and hers, a single line hadn’t cut it. Now, because Garrett had agreed and three extra lines had been installed just this past week, faxes could get through while he was on-line and talking on the telephone all at the same time. Garrett hadn’t objected as he hoped several of his newfound grandsons would stay on at the ranch for the summer. Most of them would have to conduct their business from the ranch.
All in all, it was a nightmare, Gina thought as she sat on her bed and rubbed the kinks from her neck. She’d spent the past several days trying—and failing—to avoid Trent. They’d shared meals together, bumped into each other in the house, and while she’d helped Suzanne in the kitchen, he and Blake had pitched in whenever Rand had needed an extra hand or two. He’d spent a lot of time in the den and so she’d taken to working from her room.
She’d passed him in the hallways, tried to smile and act nonchalant, but there was always more between them than a cursory nod or “Hello,” “How’s it goin’?” or even “Did you sleep okay?”
Just yesterday she’d found him alone in the barn when she’d been searching for Garrett.
“Garrett?” she’d called, stepping into the darkened interior that smelled of dry hay and cattle.
“Don’t think he’s here.” Trent’s voice had startled her and he’d stepped out of the shadows. His boot heels, ringing on hundred-year-old floorboards as he approached, echoed through the chambers of Gina’s fluttering heart. “I’m looking for him myself.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t been able to conjure up a ghost of a smile as a barn owl, disturbed, had hooted from the rafters and dust motes had swirled and danced, appearing golden in the shaft of daylight piercing a solitary round window. She’d looked into his face and her breath had suddenly lost itself between her lungs and her throat. Bladed cheekbones, square jaw, and thick eyebrows guarding eyes so blue that even in the half light she swallowed hard.
“Not in the stables, either. I checked.”
“Then…then maybe he went into town.”
“His truck’s here.” He’d been so close she could smell the hint of his aftershave, all male and musk as it mingled with the other odors of the barn.
“Then I’ll check the bunkhouse.”
“Wait.” He’d reached for her hand and as his fingers had caught her wrist a shock had run up her nerves. Sweat had beaded between her shoulder blades. “I think I’ve been a little rough on you.”
“Rough?”
He’d frowned and she’d wanted to kiss those blade-thin lips. Frustration and bewilderment, emotions she didn’t normally attribute to him, had been drawn into the lines of his face. “I don’t think so.”
“The truth is, you bother me, Gina. I don’t know what to do with you.”
She’d laughed nervously. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do.”
“No?” He hadn’t been convinced, his thick eyebrows cinching together as the owl hooted again, flapped its wings and hid deeper in the rafters.
Oh, if he would just quit touching her. But his fingers had been warm on the inside of her wrist and the air between them had seemed to grow thicker still, heavy with unspoken emotions. She’d immediately thought of their lovemaking, of the fact that she might be pregnant and wanted to confide in him. But she hadn’t—she couldn’t. Not until she was certain. Maybe not even then. As if he’d read the doubts in her mind, he’d tugged gently on her arm, pulled her closer. His head bent and his lips had hovered over hers in delicious enticement. “I—”
With a creak of hinges the sliding door was suddenly rolled back. As sunlight streamed through the opening, Gina had pulled her hand away from Trent’s. She’d turned quickly to find Garrett, Blake and Rand just outside. “That’s right, I think we should check with the vet, make sure we have all the serums for inoculations,” Garrett had been saying as the bright light flooded the barn’s interior. Gina had tried to appear calm and Trent had actually stepped forward.
“Gina and I have been lookin’ for you,” he’d said without preamble, as if he wasn’t the least bit disconcerted that once again they’d been discovered in a nearly compromising position. “I took a call from Wayne, he wan
ts you to get in touch with him, and Gina—” He’d turned to her and with a cocky half smile, said, “She needed something, as well.” Raising a dark eyebrow, encouraging her to take over, he’d cocked his head toward the three men as they’d walked inside.
Her mind had gone blank. For the life of her she hadn’t been able to remember why she’d been searching for the elder Kincaid.
“Somethin’ up?” Garrett had asked. Rand had walked past them and into the barn, Blake had smothered a knowing smile, and Gina, fighting the urge to slap Trent for tossing the ball in her direction, had forced her head to nod and hoped to high heaven that her face was still in the shadows, that her blush was hidden.
“It not that important if you’re busy. I just wanted to ask you some questions about Larry—where he was about a year and a half ago. I mean, I know he spent some time with you and Wayne going over this place, so he was here in Whitehorn, but I wondered about side trips he might have taken.” They’d been over this territory before, but she’d wanted to double-check her notes, and Garrett was the best source of information she had.
“Just give me a minute and I’ll meet you up at the house,” he’d said. The owl had flapped his wings, shedding feathers that had drifted to the floor as Gina, embarrassed all over again, though she’d told herself she was being overly sensitive, had walked stiffly back to the house.
Garrett hadn’t been able to shed any more light on Larry’s whereabouts during the time when the seventh son had been conceived, nor had he brought up either time he’d caught Gina and Trent embracing. But he wasn’t happy about the situation; Gina’s feminine intuition was working overtime these days and she sensed Garrett’s disapproval.
“Great,” she muttered as she pulled one leg under her and leaned against the wall. Well, she didn’t have much more time here. The other sons were due to start rolling into the ranch in the morning and if she could just locate that last one, or prove that he didn’t exist, she could hightail it. Garrett wanted her to meet all of the men she’d located; she wasn’t sure that was such a fabulous idea. Look what had happened when she’d made the mistake of accepting a drink from Trent. One thing had led to another and now…